You Don't Owe Me Anything?
by VampPhan
Summary: That is Erik's question to Christine after "Il Muto". He does not kill Buquet, and she does not meet Raoul. What happens? Third in What-if oneshot series.


**AN: Third in the "What If One-Shot" series... Erik doesn't kill Buquet, thus the "All I Ask of You" scene is nonexistant. What happens instead? May be continued (that is, after my many stories are finished! Ugh...). By the way, I'm trying something new, and Erik looks like my personal mental image of him. Happy Reading! **

**You Don't Owe Me Anything?**

Christine fled the stage as soon as the red curtains were drawn after the production of "Il Muto". She was eager to get out of her frilly Countess's costume. She was positive that Carlotta's little incident was the fault of Erik, despite the fact most accidents were unfairly blamed on him. The audience was pleased with Christine's few minutes of singing, but she sure wasn't. Nearly throwing herself through the crowds, she rushed to the safety and quiet of her dressing room.

As soon as she had slammed and locked the heavy door, she sighed with relief. The silence and solitude was a wave of relaxation. Christine smiled to herself, then strode across the dim room to light a few candles, which illuminated the room in and almost romantic glow. She was about to start undressing right where she stood but then paused. What if Erik was watching?

_No, he wouldn't--violent though he may be, he's not a lecher. Besides, you've done this countless times before. Not to mention the fact that if he were watching, he would make himself known. ,_ she tried to reassure herself. Still, for peace of mind, she undressed behind a screen. The dress was easy enough to get out of, but there was the minor problem of the wicked contraption otherwise known as a corset. No matter how much she struggled, fiddled, and tugged at the strings, she could not get it off.

_Oh how embarrassing...I'll have to go search for Madame Giry if I ever have hope of removing it. Why didn't I think of this?_

She sighed and bent over to put the dress back on so she could leave her room in search of the Madame. Just when she began to pick it up, she froze and dropped it. There was something very cold barely touching the small of her back, almost so lightly she thought she was imagining it. She felt like turning around or screaming, but could do nothing as she sensed the ties untangling, almost as if on their own. The corset slowly slipped away, freeing everything but her pounding heart from her chest.

"Is that better?", Erik's familiar voice breathed in her ear, making her shudder. From the expected fear or horrified pleasure, she didn't know. Christine felt the cold hands move around from her back to her stomache, willing her to lean back onto an equally icy body.

"You were breathtaking once again, Christine.", he silkily purred, his breathing almost as rapid as hers. "Then again you always are..."

She finally mustered up the strength to jerk herself away and turn around to face him. He looked much more mysterious tonight, with a black mask only showing his mouth, and a soft, felt black hat. His mismatched eyes flickered in the candlelight, the gold one questioning, and the green mischievious.

"Y-You shouldn't h-h-have done that to Carlotta...what if she's sick or even dying right now? Did you even consider that?", Christine stammered. Wretched though she was, Carlotta didn't deserve physical pain. Humiliation, yes, but not pain.

Erik grimly smirked, obviously amused.

"I can assure you, the concoction I made for her will not effect anything but her vocal chords, and only temporarily."

"How can you know for sure?"

"I knew it would upset you if the hag got extremely ill, so I tested it on myself. Fortunate for me, it worked the first time...though it was rather irritating to have my voice ruined for five hours...", Erik mused.

Christine was speechless at how casual he was about it all. Five hours? Concoction? Testing it on himself?

He looked her up and down before speaking again and stepping closer.

"What? I don't even get a thank you?"

"I don't owe you anything!", she spat.

At first, she thought that would silence him, but his quiet almost vibrated with anger.

"You don't owe me anything?", he whispered, voice dangerously low. "_You don't owe me anything?!"_

Christine swallowed. She hit a nerve alright, but it was the bomb activator instead of the one to cut it off.

"If not for me, you would be a mere ballet tart, with no special talent, no happiness, and no _damned Vicomte!_", he hissed. "Oh yes...I watched that insolent aristocrat just waltz right past you in 'Hannibal', yet fawn over you in 'Think of Me'. And why? Because of your voice that led you to fame, Christine. The same voice that I molded into perfection for you!"

He continued to advance on her, step by step, and she continued to back away in fear.

"Sometimes I really wish that I hadn't been so stupid as to teach you to sing, so I would not have fallen in love with you, and if I did anyway, there would be no de Chagny to rip you away from me!"

He finally had her backed against the wall. She saw he was almost panting, as if he had run a long distance and was just starting to cool off. The rage in his eyes faded, leaving only longing. He rested his hands on either side of her and closed his eyes.

"It's too late to fulfill my first wish of never loving you, but is it too late for you to love me?", he murmured, gazing at her mournfully.

Before she could open her mouth to answer, the doorknob noisily shook, and Erik disappeared. Madame Giry opened the door, key in hand.  
"The Vicomte wishes to speak with you.", she reported dully. Christine considered what Erik had said.

"Tell him I never wish to speak to _him _again."


End file.
